


Inside Trapped

by Doodsxd



Series: Watch Me Unfold [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Fights, From Lucius, Homophobia, Light Angst, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Torture, Torture, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Walk Of Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: He was still naked, still on Malfoy’s bed. Still not regretting anything. Perhaps because he felt a core strength rise inside of him, allowing him the awareness that it was worth the price he would undoubtedly pay for his decision.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,
> 
> So, my first series, I guess. It could be another chapter of the first, but meh. I like this way better. 
> 
> It's a bit angst, but I'm planning more on this story, so don't fret, people. It will get happy and dirty again. At least I hope, you know how it is, things get out of control from the tip of my fingers. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

Flowers

 

 

 

“I’m not marrying Astoria Greengrass.” Was the first sentence that made its way through Harry’s ears to his brain. It made no sense, so he struggled with sleep to crack his lids open. It was illogical, since seeing wouldn’t help him understand anything, but that’s how nature rules sovereign. 

“Marry Daphne, then.” Harry heard. The night behind him came back to his mind in a rush, ghost of pleasure stretching its fingers along his skin. He bit his lower lip and sat up, reaching for his glasses. 

He was still naked, still on Malfoy’s bed. Still not regretting anything. Perhaps because he felt a core strength rise inside of him, allowing him the awareness that it was worth the price he would undoubtedly pay for his decision. 

Harry stood up and dressed himself on his underwear and pants. He was buttoning his shirt when he heard clearly the voice he could now make as being Lucius Malfoy arguing with Draco. He looked around and his eyes found the clock. Five eleven a.m. Too soon for a discussion, too late to go back to bed and pretend to be asleep so to avoid confrontation. 

“Do you really wish to see me miserable that much?” Draco accused just beyond the open door. They were probably in the living room. 

“What I  _ wish _ is to have a decent son, with a respectable job and a respectable wife.” Lucius hissed dangerously. “What I  _ wish _ is to see the Malfoy name out of the mud, but you don’t seem to share the wish to be once again respected by the wizarding community. Are you fine with being scum, Draco?” 

“ _ You _ were the one who dragged the Malfoy name to the mud.” Draco’s words were cutting, final. “I was forced to tag along and look where it got me!” Harry could almost see, as he was hearing, Draco pull his sleeve up to shove the Dark Mark on his father’s face. 

“You won’t talk to me like this, boy.” Lucius sounded absolutely furious. “You will cease this childish rebellion and go back to your duties as you never should have left.” 

The younger man’s laughter didn’t have a drop of humor in it. “What you call childish rebellion, I call my life.”

“You call it  _ life? _ To strip for strangers,  _ male _ nonetheless, and sleep all day?” 

“Like you or not, it’s my choice.” His tone was dismissive, and the Gryffindor predicted the danger from the silence that followed. 

“You know I can change that.” The threat was an arrow cutting through the air. Draco inhaled sharply. 

“You know very well that the Cruciatus curse doesn’t work on me anymore.” Harry felt the rock drop to the bottom of the well. There was no way up from there. 

“Imperius does, you insolent child.”

“Fuck you!” Draco spat, finally losing it, voice gaining a squealed note. “You think I can’t fight Imperius? You think I won’t owl mom my memories from your  _ training sessions _ first thing when I do?” His steps were strong, stomping against the floor. “She may love you, Lucius, as I know you love her, but as Harry Potter has already proved, a mother’s love knows no bounds. Can you take the scandal, huh?” He threw something around. “Can you handle having people know that you’re so twisted that even the daughter of Druella Black, a woman who had house-elves heads stuffed and hanged on the walls, ran away from you?”

“ _ Crucio!” _

A dull thud came from the other room and Harry knew that playing the hero here would only make it worse. So, he padded his way to the living room, barefoot. 

The scene he found there was exactly what he expected. Draco was twisting with pain on the floor, no noise coming from his lips, and Lucius had his wand drawn on him, watching his own son with a hateful sneer.

“I wonder just how brave you are when there’s other people around.” Harry’s voice startled the want out of Malfoy’s hand, wood dropping to the floor with a clang. He looked frightened, probably because Harry could have him arrested for that in a second. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” He yelled while Draco pushed himself to the couch, breath laboured, eyes closed. So brave. So beautiful. “Did you-” He advanced towards his son, fisting his shirt. “Did you  _ sleep _ with that man?” 

“While I am perfectly aware that no Malfoy needs any saving from me, I have to say that your son’s social and sexual life are none of your business.” He drew out his wand. “Unforgivable Curses, however, are at the top of the list on my job description, which means that the Ministry of Magic made it my business, despite this being a family quarrel.” 

He took a step forward, and then another. Lucius cowered, desperate. “This isn’t going to end like this.” 

“Of course not.” Harry guaranteed calmly, Lucius wand on his other hand after a quick and wordless  _ Accio _ . “But you can’t possibly expect me to allow you to go on torturing someone just because in your sick mind you own them, for some reason.” He shrugged. “You see, I would be fired for overseeing such a thing. I’m sure you understand.” 

His subtil irony and the step forward he took were enough to put fear back on Malfoy senior eyes. A moment afterwards, there was only thin air where his figure had been. 

Harry dropped both wands on the glass center table and sat beside Draco, who still looked like he was taking pain to his very bones. He probably was, as far as Harry’s knowledge about Cruciatus ran. That didn’t stop the blond hair to leaning on his shoulder after a bit of shifting.

“When did you grow those large, fuzzy balls, Potter?” The Slytherin asked, voice thin, but making Harry laugh nonetheless. 

“I probably should say  _ ‘when I killed Voldemort _ ’, but that would be a lie.” His arm went around the other man’s shoulders carefully. “So my answer will have to be  _ when I first got my hands on you _ .” He chuckled, and so did Malfoy. He thought about it for a moment. “Hey, why fuzzy? Why not hairy?”

Draco chuckled again, nestling himself further on Harry’s chest. “That’s because you’re not quite there yet.” He shrugged weakly. “Now go fetch me a cuppa. I need my morning tea.”

Harry smiled, going around to find Malfoy’s kitchen. He brought tea for two, but when he got back to the living room, the Slytherin was out on the balcony, a fag between his lips. 

The Gryffindor wondered if the years of hostile familiarity between them was what built the current easiness miasma around them. 

He went past the sliding glass doors and leaned against the railings, looking at the beautiful view of London just before dawn. The air was slightly cold, and still, as if waiting for something, waiting for the sun to shake it back into the flow. 

“So,” Harry mused. “Astoria Greengrass, huh?”

Draco just laughed, shaking his head. “They even have the name of my firstborn planned. Sometimes I wonder if you weren’t lucky for losing your parents so young.”

Harry pondered, unconcerned and unoffended. “I wonder about that too. I used to idealize my mom and dad when I was a kid, but I guess I needed idolized icons to go through my childhood, a coping mechanism. I used to imagine that they would be supportive and kind no matter what, and that they would love me - the exact opposite of my aunt and uncle.” He said, watching the way Malfoy turned to face him, giving him his full attention. 

“By what I heard and saw, especially from Snape, however, he and my godfather were assholes, at least when they were children. They were inconsiderate bullies, the same kind I hated and still kinda hate.” His shoulder went up and down. “I wonder if I would be like them had they raised me up, and I don’t like the idea. Being bullied made me who I am, and since I made my peace with the pain, I can say I like myself and I’m proud of my life story.”

Draco gave himself a moment to blow the smoke, savoring it, as he ashed the cigarette. “You’d be exactly like me, Potter. At least for a while, until it dawned on you just what kind of person you grew up to be just because you never went through the trouble of thinking by yourself.” He dragged in smoke again and threw the stub to the wind, blowing it out on Harry’s face. The touch of the smoke was soft, a touchless caress. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, and there was nothing else to say. Pain had shaped them both into what they were. Harry just got lucky to suffer it earlier in life, so he was ready when the time came. Malfoy was not, and that’s where his mistakes bloomed from. 

They stayed like that until sun was high and blinding over their retinas. Going inside, Draco threw himself carelessly on the couch and re-heated the forgotten tea with magic, taking a lazy sip with a slightly scrunched face. 

“I guess I’ll be going.” Harry said, having already assured himself that Malfoy was fine, and that he would stay like that. Draco hummed absentmindedly in response. “Will I see you again?” 

Malfoy’s eyes shot up with surprise, contentment, myrth. He smirked. “You know where to find me, Potter.” 

Harry smiled and waited for Malfoy to open the wards so he could apparate from there by himself. With a wink, he left, finding himself on the busy streets of Muggle London, breathing in the day that started, the life buzzing around him. 

He drank some coffee, read the paper and stopped by a magazine stand just beside a flower shop. 

A specific flower, round but pointed, caught his attention, and when he saw it, he was already inside the shop. The young lady of the counter came to him with a smile. 

“Do you need any help?”

Harry took his wallet from his back pocket. “How much for those?”

“Those are irises.” She explained calmly. “The blue ones, that you pointed to, mean faith and hope. The yellow ones, by the corner, symbolize passion.” 

He nodded, almost rolling his eyes. Of course flowers had to have  _ meanings _ . Malfoy would know all about it, too, with his etiquette and education. “I want a bouquet of those.”

“Excellent choice. Just wait here while I prepare it.” She said and he smiled to himself. 

He scribbled a note when she offered him a pen and a paper,  _ An incentive so you’ll want to see me again. They say it’s polite to send someone flowers after shagging them, so. There. _

He apparated home and sent the flowers by owl, heading for work. It took about an hour for him to receive a small note from Malfoy.  _ Most romantic, Potter.  _

He could see the smile blooming on every word, in the way the  _ P _ of his name stood tall and proud before the other letters. It warmed him to the core of his chest. 

It was as good as a yes. 

 

###


End file.
